


Alexander Lightwood is More Popular than Jesus

by brucebannerisms



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucebannerisms/pseuds/brucebannerisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk at the corners, Cassandra Clare steeples her fingertips together and leans back in her desk chair, holding back the maniacal laugh that is begging for release. She is watching an animation her publisher sent her, an old-style printing press spitting out copy after copy of a crisp hardcover book. Her book, she thinks to herself, and she can almost smell the drying ink and feel the warmth of a freshly pressed novel. She can't experience it for real, but nonetheless, she will have her moment.</p><p>"Yes, perfect." She says aloud. "It has begun. I have successfully left out the most satisfactory aspects of a developing relationship for the greatest love story I've never written: Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane!" Pause for dramatic emphasis. </p><p>"Now, I wait."</p><p>She changes tabs on IE8, navigating away from the still spitting press and onto AO3. She refreshes the page, though the page can't have changed yet. Open in front of her is the relationship tag for Alec and Magnus, waiting to be filled with stories of two characters who transcend the barriers of her books, of her universe. Waits for the fans to do what she cannot in the confines of a few books: bring the boys to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alexander Lightwood is More Popular than Jesus

Dull. So dull. And what does he even see in her anyway!?

When Alec gets stressed out, he trains. It's probably the most cliche, annoyingly normal thing he does, but he can't really get around the fact that exercise releases endorphins into the bloodstream and works out some of the kinks that are grinding the important gears in his brain to an infuriating halt.

Suffice it to say that Alec has been training a lot recently, and, he thinks dully, it shows. If only anyone were actually looking.

If only _Jace_ were actually looking, he thinks bitterly, as he swipes at a target harder than he means to and thus loses his footing and falls back on his ass.

"Nice one." Says a voice behind him.

Now he looks.

"I heard you come in." Alec replies, picking himself up and shoving the target away from him, and it slides evenly along it's track. It slams to a halt in its place in the wall and the wood panels shutter back into place.

"Are you implying you did that on purpose?" Jace smirks, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. Alec brushes past him.

"No, I'm _implying_ that you're not as silent as you think you are. I lost my balance because I wasn't here to train with an audience. But go on, I was finished anyway." Avoiding eye contact, Alec strides down the corridor, fixing his weapons belt on his hips, wiping sweat from his forehead and trying not to act flustered. Probably failing.

"I was looking for a partner. To train with?" Jace's voice carries down the hallway. Alec waves a hand back without looking, brushing off the invitation, and trying to ignore the fact that Jace felt it necessary to clarify what he meant by partner. They're only parabatai, after all. 

And I'm only refusing to train with my fighting partner, Alec thinks bitterly (again), unbuckling his weapons belt and flinging it onto his bed. It bounces on the firm mattress and clatters onto the floor on the far side of his bed. I should get a punching bag installed in my room, Alec thinks, wanting to punch the wall in his frustration. He considers a hot shower but sniggers loudly at the idea, he paces back and forth across his bedroom, then becomes frustrated with his movement. He perches on the edge of his bed for a second before sliding to the floor, head in his hands. He presses the heels of his palms firmly into his eyes until the pressure becomes almost painful. Then he stops pushing his eyes and just freezes and tries frantically to push any and all thoughts out of his head.

So dull, he thinks again.

If there's anything in the world Alec didn't want, it was to fall in love with his (practically) brother and parabatai and best friend. Not only is love the most dull and predictable in the spectrum of emotions, but falling for your best friend has got to be the most boring love story ever written. Every mundane on earth knows this sorry old tale. The hero gets the girl (Clary) and the best friend sets aside his feelings, becomes an asexual and is overwhelmingly happy with the outcome, for his best friend's sake.

Not to mention the fact that Jace is the picture of everything the leading man always has: gorgeous blond curls, cheekbones that could cut glass, abs you could do your ironing on, molten gold eyes you can dive into, and every other cliche ever invented to describe a human Adonis (another one!). 

The above is a list of things Alec actively dislikes about Jace. Pair that with the arrogance and wit Jace puts on to match the spark in his eyes, and he's everything Alec never wanted in a brother, let alone....well, any other way he may or may not feel for Jace.

Jace. Jace Jace Jace Jace. So dull. I mean, by the Angel, does my entire axis rotate around this boy I've been competing with all my life, this boy I'm sworn to protect and who is sworn to stand at my side in battle, to die alongside if need be?

Alec slumps forward onto the floor, allowing himself one indulgent punch and maybe a kick, a minor temper tantrum. 

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood, get up and get on with it." He mutters before getting up and carrying on as normal.

That's enough of all of this whining business. _So dull_.

(σ≧▽≦)σ (づ￣ ³￣)づ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* \\(◕△◕✿)/ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧ ★~(◠ω◕✿) ¬_¬

Oh joy, a party.

Next week: Magnus Bane is so camp


End file.
